Being Discreet
by Shinoda Senshi
Summary: Movie tickets:  22.50. Concession stand snacks: More than Mark's willing to pay. Three hours in the dark with Kane: Priceless *warning: contains slash: m/m interactions*


**Being Discreet**

"How can you _possibly_ appreciate the magnitude of the trilogy having not seen the first two parts?"

When it comes to certain movies, Kane is hardcore. He can get pretty adamant. Not that I blame him. Kane comes by his enthusiasm naturally. It runs in the family. Personally, I prefer custom bikes over, say, the _Terminator_ series.

I step up to the ticket booth with Kane fussing away behind me. He's a bit more agitated that usual. Probably due to the amount of people milling around us. Kane does not do well at the center of crowds. Not unless he's playing the part of the Big Red Machine. Then he gets to don his mask, letting the real Kane disappear.

To be quite honest, I prefer the real Kane over the stage version. Not that there is really that much of a difference between the two. Mainly the lack of pyrotechnics and disposable metal chairs to smash over opponents skulls.

At one point, Kane counted me on that list of potential skill-crushing victims. I am proud to declare that he and I have moved beyond all that animosity. For the most part…

No more back-stabbing plots.

No more evil scheme.

Well… Not _evil_…

A metallic voice greets me. "Welcome to the MegaPlex," drones the kid behind the glass. "How can I help you?"

He could help me by removing one or two of the rings attached to his lower lip. Heaven forbid they get caught on his microphone. This eight-bucks-an-hour gig of his won't cover reconstructive surgery.

With my brother pressing close against my back, practically breathing down my neck, I barely have the presence of mind to answer the young man. Kane has definitely invaded my personal space. Not for the first time. Certainly, it won't be the last. In fact, if things go my way, I plan to put very little distance between us in before the night is over.

"Two for the _Ring Lord_ movie." I hear Kane groan as I pull out my wallet. "Please," I add. Forgot the magic word, apparently. Just because I'm the Lord of Darkness does not mean I am a discourteous oaf.

The guy blinks at me. He can't be more than twenty years old. And if he keeps looking at me like a stoned-out goldfish, he won't make it to that all-important twenty-first birthday. "I'm sorry, sir?"

Kane leans forward, nudging me out of the way. "That's _Lord of the Rings_," he corrects. "And just one ticket each."

"_Two_ tickets," I intervene. "I got this, so back off."

According to his name tag, the confused employee manning the ticket booth is Nathan. Mired in befuddlement, Nathan glances from me to Kane. At nearly seven feet of height each and a combined weight that would tax a conventional elevator, neither my brother nor I fit the mold of the everyday movie-goer. Perhaps Nathan is the adventurous sort. Maybe his shift is over in twenty minutes and he just doesn't give a damn if we wreck the place. Punching a few keys, he mumbles. "That'll be twenty-one fifty."

At first, I'm not sure I heard him correctly. For all I know, the young man could have a pierced tongue as well. In my calmest of tones, I inquire, "Twenty-one dollars and fifty cents?"

Nathan merely nods. I'm sure he is reaching for some sort of security alert button.

Aghast and outraged, I turn to Kane for support. Only to find him standing several feet away. With his back towards me. Staring up at the starry night sky.

I remind myself that this was my idea. My master plan. Twenty bucks was a small price to pay for what would hopefully transpire.

Begrudgingly, I fork over two twenties before pocketing my change and the tickets.

"That was fucked up, Kane." I haul my brother – none-too-gently, I might add – into the theater. A pleasant woman greets us and tears our tickets in half.

"No, brother-of-mind," argues Kane. "_Ring Lords_ was fucked up. If you can't even manage the name, then why are you wasting money to see the movie?"

I have absolutely no interest in this cockamamie film. My motives are strictly Kane-related. He has been going on for days and days about this picture. Judging by the fair amount of people in the lobby, I take it he's not the only enthusiast. Out of the goodness of my heart, I play the part of the caring, doting older brother. And what does it get me? A whole lotta lip. And not the kind I like, either.

"Just trade in your ticket for something you wanna see," Kane continues. "For these prices, you deserve to watch something you would enjoy."

There are times I think Kane can read my mind.

Struggling to suppress the smirk that would give my thoughts away, I plead my case. "If this is your kind of picture, then I'm all in. Just give me a quick run down."

Without his hideous mask, Kane's face is an expressive work of art. Right now, I can tell that he is touched by my sudden sensitivity, suspicious of my motives, and a little bit peeved.

"A run down?" His muscular arms fold across his massive chest. "You expect me to compress two of JRR Tolkien's works – the sweeping landscape, endearing and unnerving characters, vast and far-reaching races and history – into a blurb?"

Did I say blurb? I do not recall saying such a thing. Mostly because the word is not part of my vocabulary.

"Just start from the beginning."

We take up a spot in a line at the concession stand. Children, teens, and adults shuffle all around us. Gabbling to each other or into those infernal cellular devices. Layers upon layers of voices. To the point where I'm ready to scream at the top of my lungs.

I guess Kane isn't the only one with crowd issues.

Kane takes note of my discomfort and does his best to take my mind off of our surroundings. Not in the manner I would prefer, mind you. There are, after all, small children present, begging their parents for super sugar-laden sweets and multiple trips to the bathroom.

"In the beginning," starts Kane, "the Dark Lord Sauron forged the One Ring to gain power over the rings held by the leaders of Men, Dwarves, and Elves. The One Ring to rule them all."

Dark Lord? Ring of _Power_? What the hell am I getting myself into? Still, I go along with the program. It's all about the End Game for me. "Very sneaky. Sounds like something I would do."

The wicked chuckle against my ear raises my spirits. I can hear Kane's smile and it does my heart good. "Somehow, I knew you would approve. Anyway, the evil shenanigans of the Dark Lord really starts to gets folks' undies in a twist. So the people of Middle Earth…"

"Hold on, Smokey. _Middle_ Earth? As opposed to what? The Underground? Are there mole people, too? Tell me a race of mole men are not involved."

Kane smacks me on the shoulder. "You're okay with elves and Dark Lords, but subterranean dwellers are where you draw the line?"

"I never said I was okay with elves."

"Not even pretty ones with flowing robes and pointy ears and the gleam of untold wisdom in their eyes?"

"Not unless they were handing out pots of gold and blow jobs."

"Those are leprechauns."

I turn to look my brother straight in the eye. "Leprechauns give blow jobs?"

The extremely unsubtle sounds of throat-clearing alerts us to the fact that we are the next in line. We have reached the promised land of gummy bears, Goobers, and tubular meat the establishment has the nerve to call hot dogs.

"Can I help you?" Behind the counter is another member of the youth of America. From the half-grin on his face, I can glean my comment about the sexual promiscuity of mythical creatures had reached his ears.

I believe that if you utter the word 'blowjob' in front of any male between the ages of thirteen and sixty, it will induce an erection. Or, at the very least, set things into motion. I've said it twice and already I've noticed a distinct turn in the direction of my blood flow.

Putting oral sex aside, I ask, "How much for a small popcorn?"

Jacob, our server, points to the sign about his head.

I blink. Then blink again. I fear my heart has stopped. Somehow, I find my voice. Unfortunately, I have lost my will to live.

"Exactly how big is your small?" For the price I'm seeing, it had better be able to fit a miniature poodle into.

From behind me comes I groan I know all too well. "Move over, Scrooge." Kane tries to muscle me aside. Bad, bad idea.

"I got this," I assure him. "Now shut up and act grateful." Obviously, I'll have to refinance my house to afford this outing, but Kane is worth it.

Jacob suggests, "You could do a combo meal. Upgrade a large popcorn and drink to the Mega-Megaplex size for an extra three dollars."

Three dollars sounds reasonable. "Show me the Mega-Megaplex."

Damn…

Out from under the counter, Jacob retrieves a cardboard tub capable of bathing the Big Show. In fact, it's very much like the Big Show. Wide, cumbersome, and completely illogical.

Who needs this much popcorn? Who, on this planet, is so out of touch with reality that they regard this… _Godzilla-sized_ container as a worthwhile purchase?

Kane grins. "If you buy me that, I'll be your best friend!"

He is both endearing and disturbing.

Resigned to pauper status, I place my order. "I will take your Mega-Megaplex combo. Dr. Pepper. No ice. And a water, please."

"Bottled water is three seventy-five."

This is a test. I know it. There are cameras rigged around this place and these people are just waiting for me to go off. And it's about to be mission accomplished in about thirty seconds.

"How much for water in a cup?" Last time I checked, water was free. Came right out of the tap, for fuck's sake.

"We don't do water in a cup. Only by the bottle."

_Ten… nine… eight…seven…six…_

"How do you not _do_ water in a cup? Can I have an empty cup?"

Jacob shrugs. "I dunno… Are you gonna put water in it?"

_Five…four…three…two…_

I manage to retain my composure. This is a guy doing his job. He doesn't make the rules or set the prices. There is no reason to dislocate his jaw.

Calm… Cool… Collected… "I'll take a bottled water, please." I turn to Kane to find out if he wants anything else. That bastard is thirty feet away, staring at a movie poster!

Jacob finishes ringing me up and hands me my change. "You want butter on your popcorn?"

_One._

"You know those toothpaste commercials that claim nine out of ten dentists approve of the product?"

"Yeah."

"Well, nine out of ten chemists wouldn't call that crap butter. I don't want it anywhere near me or my food."

If it wouldn't set me off balance, I would kick my brother in the seat of his pants. "I got your damn food now let's get through this damn movie before I end up on _America's Most Wanted_."

There are more spectators in our theater than I had originally anticipated. This Dark Lord and his oh-so-powerful Ring must be a big to-do. No matter. A minor set back. I merely need to adjust the scope of my plan. In this instance, the more could actually equal the merrier.

Time to take control.

"Up there." With my free hand, I point to the uppermost rows of seas. The place is filling up fast. I need to stake our claim on some prime real estate. _Location, location, location…_

Kane starts up the stairs, taking them three at a time. His long-legged stride quickly puts distance between us and the majority of the audience. "This is a good idea," he says as he sidles down the row. Much to my delight, he has chosen the very last row. It is deserted. Our nearest companions are three rows down and several seats in either direction. "That way we won't be blocking anyone's view."

Yeah… Because I'm _all_ about courtesy to others. Sometimes Kane is so innocent, I almost feel bad for the wicked games I play with him.

Almost.

His one note of dissention: "Why are you sitting right next to me?"

I suppose he expected me to leave a seat between us. He expected incorrectly. I intend to stay as close to him as possible. Taking our surroundings into consideration, of course.

"I paid for the tickets. I paid for the snacks. I can sit anywhere I damn well please." That ought to put an end to any further arguments.

"I'm just sayin'…" grumbles Kane. "I don't want you elbowing me for the next three hours every time you don't know what's going on."

Three hours? Did he just say _three hours_? Son of a…

The lights dim as the realization sinks in. The logistics of this endeavor was based on the typical two-hour movie window. That gave me one hour to lull Kane into a false sense of security, thirty minutes to engage in my merciless attack, and a final thirty minutes of recovery time before the lights come back on.

Three hours… Maybe I could string it out a little longer… Maybe a _lot_ longer… Maybe…

Kane interrupts my contemplating. "Hey, there's no butter on this popcorn!"

"The next person to bring up that artificial crap is going to get an I-can-certainly-believe-that's-not-butter enema! You're either gonna eat that popcorn with a smile on your face or you will be wearing that bucket! And I will tell everyone in the locker room to call you Bucket Head! How do you think _that_ would look on a t-shirt?"

An over-reaction, some might say. But those people did not just pay over three dollars for a bottle of water. Once again, a little gratitude would be nice. No matter… I will bide my time… Then, I'll get my hands on his pound of flesh!

Cue maniacal laughter…

Breezing through a handful of trailers – some interesting, some movies you couldn't pay me the ticket fee to view in their entirety – we finally get to the picture.

In the first five minutes there is a murder. Things are looking up. Murderer gets shunned and cast out of his community. Followed by years of solidity and a monstrous transformation. Throw in a fire and a bastard offspring and this could be Paul Bearer's biography.

I decide to wait a little more than the full hour originally designated. To let the film fully enthrall the audience. Including my dear, sweet baby brother.

Assuming he survives the ordeal, I hope Kane forgives me.

Casually, I let my hand drop onto his knee. Kane does not flinch. Nor does he take his eyes off of the screen. So far, so good. I let my hand linger there. Not being the most patient of people, this is the most agonizing part. Being able to touch him, but not in the way I want. Feeling the rough weave of the denim, the gentle give of meat and muscle, the ambient heat radiating into my palm. My fingers curl around Kane's thigh. Itching for the chance to pet and stroke.

Wait… Wait…

Five minutes…

Ten minutes…

After fifteen long, grueling minutes, I allow myself the luxury of sliding my hand higher. Grasp a bit firmer to the inside of Kane's thigh. Just an inch or two. No more than three. I can't let him get suspicious. Thus far, he's taken more interest in his popcorn than in me.

Before the movie started, I had raised the arm rest between us. Increasing my mobility and access. That action, too, went unnoticed by Kane. This should teach him to take a keener interest in his surroundings. And to never underestimate the determination of a wicked man.

My fingers move in small, tight circles. Slowly massaging his inner thigh. Creating gentle waves of friction. From the corner of my eye, I spy Kane looking at me. No more than a glance, really. I stare straight ahead, hoping to appear focused on Gandalf the White. For the life of me, I cannot understand what is going on on-screen. Chaos and mayhem have erupted in Middle Earth. Which was just fine with me. I'd use every battle to my advantage.

I allow ten more minutes to pass. My fingers are in constant motion. Kane is oblivious. Or at least pretends to be. On a subconscious level, his legs spread wider. He slouches a bit lower in his seat. I move my hand higher. Gradually gaining ground. We have barely passed the halfway point. Time is on my side.

Halfway up, the landscape beneath my roving hand changes. Grows firmer. Hotter. There is no mistaking the treasure I have stumbled onto. Covered by that thick, rough denim. My palm takes the place of my ever-active fingers. Rubbing… Squeezing… Stroking…

"Don't," whispers Kane. But his words are lies. I firmly grasp the truth, refusing to let go.

Deep down, Kane is a good boy. He has a strong moral compass. Occasionally, it gets mislaid. Hence his violent and pyrotechnic tendencies. But _this_… This right here… This is _Wrong_ with a capital W. Not because he doesn't like it. Hell, if he spreads his legs any wider, he'll bust the seat of his pants. Kane's compass tells him this should stop. Tells him he is not being the good boy he knows he should be.

By the end of today, I will grind that moral compass beneath by boot.

Kane's popcorn rests on the empty seat beside him. Time to initiate Phase Two. It's my favorite phase.

With Kane's unspoken compliance, I release the top button of his jeans and ease down the zipper. But I don't reach inside. Not yet. I continue to rub him from the outside. Letting the anticipation build. There is no denying my intense desire to come flesh to flesh with the man at my side. The longer I hold off, the sweeter the experience will be for the two of us.

I cannot say how long I waited. I've lost all interest in my watch. Kane's deep breaths and shifting hips are all the indicators I require.

Through the course of our relationship, I have learned that there exists this tiny switch in my brother's brain. On any given day, this switch is off and Kane is normal. Well, as normal as can be expected. However, with enough stimulation… the switch kicks in and Kane… Let's say Kane becomes "open to suggestions".

Such as, "Hey, let's fuck on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere."

Such as, "Hey, let's hope the fence and go skinny-dipping in the hotel swimming pool."

Such as, "Hey, let me jerk you off in a movie theater."

The simple act of me holding him in my hand sends Kane's head rolling against the headrest. The last thing I need is for a member of the Flashlight Brigade to come roaming through the aisles. With Kane's posture and the look of barely contained lust etched on his face, there is little room for doubt regarding what we are up to back here.

"Mark…" Kane's voice is soft and strained and wonderfully sexy.

I know what that voice means. He needs more. More than my fingers lightly grasping his shaft. More freedom of movement than his confining jeans will allow. I know for a fact that if this theater were empty, I could strip Kane down to his boots without a word of protest. Buck naked, legs splayed, feet up on the seat backs, and his hard cock proudly pointing towards the dim lights.

The switch has been flipped. Time to play.

For a moment, I debate placing my coat over Kane's lap. It is one thing to have a cavalier attitude and rock out with your cock out. It is quite another to be hauled out of a movie theater and into a waiting police vehicle, inevitably to be charged with indecent exposure.

There is no one else in our row. The nearest witness is not nearly close enough for me to be overly concerned. If we were to get away with this…

The blood pounding in my ears drowns out the audio track of the film. With the battle to end all battles playing out on the screen, I throw caution to the wind.

Kane's sigh of relief as I draw out his length nearly stops my heart. Thankfully, no heads turn in our direction. The audience remains blissfully unaware of our interactions.

In this near-total darkness I am able to witness the beauty of Kane's unconcealed passion. His hips move on their own accord. Rocking and rolling. Blatantly pumping his cock into my clenched, sweat-slicked fist. I alternate the tightness of my grip, transfixed by his sexually deviant behavior.

And folks thought I would have a negative influence on the boy.

Our eyes lock. Sparks. Electricity. Fire. You name it, I feel every inch if it in that moment. The man is burning up in my hands and I along with him. Under the metallic clang of clashing swords, we kiss. Lips and tongues and teeth. As unrelenting and intense as my love for him. I will not back down. I will not stop. We have come too far.

Using my free hands, I push up Kane's shirt. The smooth planes of his stomach transform into hilly ridges as his muscles flex and relax… flex and relax… He's working himself into a frenzy, my beautiful boy.

The tip of my tongue touches his exposed nipple. A full body shudder runs through him. He is about to fall to pieces.

Shaking, shivering, thrusting. Licking, biting, stroking, His hands on my hair. My heart in my throat. The soundtrack swells and then…

Then I hear it. Soft and faint and more moving than the music surrounding us. "I'm coming, Mark… I'm coming!"

Kane's cock pulsates in my hand, jerking with each expulsion. His groans are for my ears alone. He shoots high and hard, neither of us caring where his spunk lands. Tension released, legs limp, Kane slumps back into his chair. The rise and fall of his chest are his only movements.

Gently, I wring the last drops of come from him before placing his softening cock back inside his pants. I kiss his lips and smile as he returns my affection. Only then do I concede to reality. "Looks like they saved Middle Earth," I murmur, righting the rest of Kane's clothes. "Good for them."

Kane's pout is priceless. "You made me miss the movie."

"Not all of it."

"The really good part," counters Kane.

Smirking, I grip his crotch. "Trust me… We just got through the good part."

There's that gorgeous grin! "Can we come back tomorrow?"

"I guess."

"Can I get butter on my popcorn?"

"Only if you buy it yourself." That doesn't sound unreasonable to me.

Kane pauses. "Can I suck your cock?"

Not to self: Send Peter Jackson a fruit basket.

**END**


End file.
